


What She Wants

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Clitorial Enlargement, Community: daily_deviant, Crossdressing, F/M, Infidelity, Jealousy, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria wants more than she thinks Draco will give her, so she make sure to find a way to force the issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What She Wants

**Author's Note:**

> This was my January fic for Daily Deviant, where everything old was new again, and I got to pick a whole bunch of prompts to include in one tiny fic. *grins* Thank you to my alpha and beta readers, as always. And of course, I don't own either the world or characters of Harry Potter, I'm just playing with them.

“I’m going to bend you over and fuck you.” His voice is low and harsh against the back of her neck, his hand on her belly as he pushes her forward. It’s all she can do not to cry out, instead pushing back with her ass.

“Do it,” she whispers, voice lower than it should be. “ _Do it_.”

Even staring at him in the mirror, she has no idea who he is. The black mask covers half his face, the wide-brimmed hat tilts back on his head. He has his robes open, baring his body which is thick and muscled, built like a barrel with a dick that she thinks could split her in half. His hand palms her ass, squeezing roughly, and she whines her assent.

“Do it, Hook.” Her fingers are tight against the porcelain of the sink. “Fuck me. Strip me.”

He doesn’t know who she is, either. He undoes the buttons of her frilled shirt, baring breasts that have been shrunk to nothing, her nipples taut and tightly nubbed. He rubs rough hands over her, tweaking them more roughly than Draco would ever dare touch her.

She isn’t made of glass. She isn’t _delicate_. She wants it rough, wants to be taken, to be _fucked_ just like this. She wants to be bent over, have a huge dick shoved in her ass. She wants to be stroked, _wanked_ , sucked.

“Suck me,” she whispers. “If you want to fuck me, you have to suck me first. You can do anything you want, if you can get me off.”

She pushes at Hook—some villain from a Muggle story that she’s never read. It’s the theme of the masque, and she loves the idea that they have no idea what each other even pretends to be. It adds another layer of anonymity. She turns and grips his shoulders, shoving him to the ground until he hits the floor with a thunk. He growls, rips at her trousers, yanking them open until she spills out. He grips her in his hand, pulling at her engorged clit—Merlin, she loves that spell, loves making herself a little prick—then slides it into his mouth. Her hips thrust forward and she grips his hair, grinding her body against his face. She’s too small to hurt him, so she fucks his face hard, loving the way it makes him pull on her, suck her over-sensitive clit until she feels like she could come just from this. “You want my ass,” she whispers. “You want to fuck my ass and split me wide open. You want to go balls deep inside of me, and fuck me until I come. You want to fill me up, don’t you? You’re desperate for it. Gagging for it. C’mon, baby, show it to me. Do it to me.”

He pulls off of her, and she shoves her hand between her legs, slicking her fingers with her own moisture so she can take her clit in hand, pulling on it like a prick. She’s riding the fine edge of the wave, so close to tilting over, legs shaking with it. He pushes her over the sink again, and she braces with one hand as he yanks her trousers and pants down to bare her arse. She reaches back with sopping fingers to press the tip of one into herself, whining at the feel of it. He doesn’t question, simply holds out his fingers for lube, and she gives it to him, soaks him with her own juices so that he can scissor her open.

He’s not gentle about it. She’s not ready when the head of his prick pushes into her, and it feels so damned good. She cries out, pushing back as he shoves forward, letting him seat deep in her arse. “Oh fuck. Yes. Fuck. Yes.”

She wraps her hand around her makeshift dick, and this is when she thinks about Draco. Imagines him standing there, grey eyes wide with shock to see his wife like this on a stranger’s cock. Imagines the shout when he sees her being fucked like a boy, bent over a sink in a dirty loo. He’d be raging. Furious. He’d yell and scream and he’d be hard, too. He’d put his hands down his pants and he’d stroke himself, watching as she rubbed herself off. He’d hate to see her used like this, crying out with every thrust, body tight around a stranger’s dick, and she loves the idea of him angry at her in his jealousy.

“Come on,” she tells him, talking to the bloke that fucks her and the man in her imagination. “Come on. Get me off. Fuck me, fill me.” He bottoms out, pressing into her, and at the same time he wraps his hand around her clit, stroking her hard. It’s too rough, it’s too much, and she tumbles over the edge with a scream, entire body going tense around him. There’s a startled yell and he comes deep inside of her, jism dribbling out of her crack when he finally pulls away.

She stays there, leaning over the sink, staring at the thoroughly debauched boy in the mirror. In the background, she sees Hook tuck himself away. “Go,” she orders, and he does.

She takes time putting herself back together, tucking into her pants and pulling up her trousers. She can feel the steady drip from her ass and the way it squishes beneath her thighs, her own juices mingling with his. She does up each button carefully, then puts her vest back in place. Last is the jaunty hat atop her head.

She hears the call of her name as soon as she exits the loo, and she turns to wave as Pansy beckons her over.

“Where have you been, Astoria?” Pansy links arms with her, drawing her back to where Draco and Blaise wait. “Everyone has loved our costumes, but how can we be the three musketeers without our D’Artagnan?”

“I had to adjust my costume.” She disengages herself from Pansy, fits herself in neatly next to Draco. She takes his hand and sets it at her waist, fingers just dipped beneath the waistband of her trousers. “It’s hard fitting into a bloke’s shoes for the night.”

He doesn’t trust her.

He never trusts her, and he’s always _right_.

There’s a rush of wet warmth between her legs when Draco’s fingers slide beneath the edge of her trousers, when one long, slender finger slips between the crack of her ass and feels how slick she is. He pinches her roughly and she almost whimpers at the feel of his jealousy, at the way his finger drives into her quietly, fucking her in the wet remains of her unknown lover.

He bites her ear when he leans close. “I told you—”

“Jealous?” she hisses back.

He draws her back into the corner, still standing so close to Pansy and Blaise. She smiles prettily when he puts her in front of him, when he yanks his zipper down and pulls her trousers down just enough. She is sopping wet and when he leans forward, he slides right into her fanny, fucking deep and fast.

She leans back, whispering, “He fucked me in the loo. He bent me over and he thought he was fucking a boy. And I let him. No spells, no protection, I let him put his jism inside of me, and you can feel it now. It’s dripping everywhere and you fucking hate it.”

He growls and when he bites her ear, it _hurts_ , but oh fuck, it feels good. His fingers are rough on her clit, pinching it, rolling it, twisting it until she’s trying not to cry.

And it feels so good to push him out of his comfort zone and into this quiet jealous rage. To make him take her with his friends so close by and unaware, knowing that he loves that she’s dressed as a man, that she let another man fuck her not moments before. When his hand closes around her clit again, she begins to shudder, legs going limp as she falls back against him and he loses control and lets himself go within her.

He kisses the tears from the corners of her eyes when he’s done, slowly slips his fingers from her fanny and tucks her back neatly together. Her pants are soaked, and she is sure she smells like sex.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her cheek. “I’m sorry. You just make me so _angry_.”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, catching his mouth for a sweet, gentle kiss. “It’s okay.”

And it is. It really is.

Astoria doesn’t want to be treated like glass. She doesn’t want to be a precious decoration. She wants to be fucked.

This is the only way she can get him to do it, where he remains perfect and blameless, and she always forgives him.

This is how she gets what she wants.

And she will _always_ get what she wants.


End file.
